


Blue Christmas

by ChameleonCircuit



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, starisi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 02:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17071370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChameleonCircuit/pseuds/ChameleonCircuit
Summary: The grin Sonny shot him, then, was blinding, and for a moment Peter felt winded, stuck staring, as though the rest of the world had slipped away and it was just the two of them, floating endlessly through space, Sonny’s hand warm on his back, the sharp tang of his cologne mixing with cinnamon and something else Peter couldn’t quite place. For just that moment, Peter felt absolutely weightless, lost in the blues of Sonny’s eyes. He couldn't believe he’d never taken the time to notice before. He wasn’t quite sure why he was noticing now.





	Blue Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is unbeta'd and was written at midnight when I should have been sleeping, and likely would have been sleeping, if it weren't for the roadworks outside my window.
> 
> If you liked this, it would be great if you could reblog it on tumblr, if you have one.  
> http://sofuckingchuffed.tumblr.com/post/181253692077/hello-if-youre-taking-requests-could-you-write
> 
> Posts with external links don't seem to appear in the tags anymore, so reblogging is my only exposure!

 

Peter wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he made his way up to the squad room, but it certainly wasn't this. There was tinsel hung on every available surface, and the usually paper-strewn desks were covered with a wide range of food and beverages, with a large punch bowl in the middle of everything. He stood at the edge of the room, eyes wide as a sense of something bordering on panic filled him up, the onslaught of color and noise and smells far too much considering he'd almost decided against coming.

“Never partied with cops before?” Sonny asked with a snort, sliding up beside him at the doorway.

Peter turned to look at him, his usual smile painted on his face, but it softened to something more genuine when he took in Sonny’s appearance, cheeks flushed, hair softer than usual, eyes glistening in the light as he grinned.

“Not like this,” he responded, tilting his head towards the festivities as Sonny shoved a cup of something deep-red into his hands.

“You tellin’ me Chicago cops don’t go hard?”

Peter snorted, studying his drink for a moment before testing a sip. He grimaced at the onslaught of sugar that hit his tongue, but found himself downing its contents anyway as Sonny’s hand pressed warmly, insistently, on his lower back, guiding him into the room properly.

“Oh, Chicago cops go hard, alright. Just usually with less tinsel and more hard liquor.”

The grin Sonny shot him, then, was blinding, and for a moment Peter felt winded, stuck staring, as though the rest of the world had slipped away and it was just the two of them, floating endlessly through space, Sonny’s hand warm on his back, the sharp tang of his cologne mixing with cinnamon and something else Peter couldn’t quite place. For just that moment, Peter felt absolutely weightless, lost in the blues of Sonny’s eyes. He couldn't believe he’d never taken the time to notice before. He wasn’t quite sure why he was noticing now.

“Peter,” Liv’s voice chimed behind him, breaking him from his trance, and his heart thudded in his chest, suddenly seeming to do double time as the world rushed back into focus, too bright and too loud and exactly why he’d hesitated to come in the first place.

As the night went on, Peter felt like he was dragged from one person to the next, eating food he could barely taste and drinking drinks that made him feel vaguely nauseous for their sweetness. More often than not, he found himself searching the room, desperate for that calm familiarity of Sonny’s eyes, his warmth, his kindness. But each time, Sonny was otherwise occupied, laughing at someone’s joke, clasping someone’s shoulder, taking selfies like there was no tomorrow, grinning the whole time, the brilliant flush never leaving his cheeks.

“How did you end up stuck here, then?” An officer he’d met once, who’d insisted Peter call him Andy right away, asked, and Chief Dodds laughed like he knew exactly what Andy was implying.

“I wouldn’t say stuck,” Peter muttered with a dry laugh, meeting Liv’s eyes from across the room with a knowing, warm smile.

He had felt stuck. At first, anyway. Before he’d reached out, before he’d connected, before he’d made some hesitant friends. And Sonny came to mind again, then, as the first member of the squad who’d really given Peter a chance, despite everything, and this time when he sought Sonny out, Sonny’s eyes were on him from across the room, soft and lazy from alcohol, yet not dulled in the slightest.

The wink Sonny shot him before turning back to Amanda sent his heart into a frenzy, his stomach doing somersaults, and he forced himself to focus back on Andy.

“...slot in pretty well, all things considered,” Andy was saying, and Peter wasn’t sure what had come before it, but he was saved from responding.

“Well, it helps to be Ben Stone’s son,” Chief Dodds said with a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Andy laughed a little too hard in response, and Peter couldn’t tell if it was because he was sucking up, or because he was drunk. It was likely a mixture of both, but it didn’t make any difference. Either way, the too-loud sound of it shattered the festive facade Peter had put up around him, and everything somehow seemed instantly darker and far more oppressive.

“Yeah,” Peter breathed out with a forced laugh of his own, downing the remainder of his drink in an attempt to wash down the bitterness rising inside him.

It was hard to remind himself that they meant no harm when mentions of his father instantly brought his sister to mind, too, doubling the sucker punch. It was hard to tell himself they were just being friendly when the tang of bile hit the back of his throat, a combination of his unwavering grief and the over-spiked sugary drinks he’d consumed. His head was spinning and, for the first time that night, he didn’t even think to seek out familiar blue eyes from across the room.

He wasn’t even sure he’d politely excused himself, the swirling in his stomach growing as he made his way out of the room and down the elevator, desperate for the sting of the cold winter’s air, desperate for that freshness as his lungs burned.

The stark contrast of the cold hitting his face was sobering, and with it his anger dissipated, leaving only that deep, hollow sadness he was so used to, and a sense of regret that he couldn’t quite place.

He took a deep breath in, holding it just long enough for stars to dance in front of his eyes, before releasing it slowly. His legs moved before he’d even made a decision, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” Sonny asked, voice full of sincerity, and for a moment Peter was too scared to look.

Too scared, because Sonny wore his heart on his sleeve, always, and Peter wasn’t sure he could stomach the concern that would be etched into Sonny’s face. He could already picture the downturn of those perfect pink lips, and the furrow of his brow, and the way his eyes looked wrong, somehow, not framed by crows feet. He could picture the sincerity that matched his voice, and, not for the first time, he felt exhausted by it. 

He was tired of being this broken, fractured version of himself, always being checked up on, always an air of worry whenever anyone spoke to him. He knew it came from a good place, knew that people were only trying to be kind, but the longer it went on, the more trapped he felt by it.

Still, after what felt like an hour but was, in reality, probably only a few seconds, Peter forced himself to turn, to face Sonny’s concern with a soft, well-practiced smile.

“I’m fine,” he assured, voice gentle, measured. “Just my time to go.”

For a moment, he thought Sonny might push the matter; fight back, ask again, press for an honest answer that neither of them would know what to do with. But instead, he nodded, allowing himself to smile, even if it was a dimmed version of his usual blinding grin.

“And you’re, what, gonna walk home?” Sonny teased, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking a step, as though to suggest that if that’s what Peter was doing, then Sonny would join him.

“Perhaps not the whole way,” Peter said lightly, and he turned to continue walking, pleased when Sonny fell into step beside him. “But I could do with the fresh air.”

“Yeah,” Sonny chuckled, ducking his head in a way that somehow chased away some of the darkness, replacing it with warmth. “I s’pose I could, too.”

Peter hummed in acknowledgment, allowing his elbow to bump Sonny’s, taking comfort in the warmth, the familiarity of it, despite them never having done this before.

He expected Sonny to fill the silence like he normally did. He expected that, buoyed by alcohol, Sonny would be an unstoppable force, and he’d been ready to welcome that with open arms. But instead, Sonny remained silent, allowing their shoulders to bump every so often, allowing the distant sounds of sirens and traffic and the occasional voice to provide a soundtrack to whatever pocket of time they’d found themselves in.

And just when Peter had truly begun to accept the silence, had truly sunk comfortably into it, Sonny stopped dead in his tracks. Peter felt the loss instantly; of movement, of warmth, and of something else that had been vaguely comforting, though he struggled to name it.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, half turned towards Sonny, a sense of unease, of anticipation, building inside of him.

“Nothing,” Sonny said quietly, shaking his head, but his eyes were wide, lighter somehow, more of an icy blue than a clear azure, and it somehow made Peter feel small to stare into that never-ending tundra.

And Peter felt that urge to push, too. To ask Sonny again, to press for an honest answer, do all the things Peter despised when he wanted to brush things off. But the unease building inside of him was reaching a crescendo, and the longer he looked at Sonny, the more he felt as though something was going to snap. Inside him, around them, inside of Sonny, he wasn’t sure, but it was there, thrumming through his veins like a warning.

Sonny took a minute step forward, and Peter’s heart went into overdrive. His brain was screaming at him to move, to do something, to say something, anything, but he was frozen in place, unable to even look away as Sonny moved incrementally closer.

And then, when he was right in front of Peter, cheeks still flushed, eyes still bright despite their icy hue, it all died down, and a sense of calm washed over him, flushing everything else away until he felt as though he were floating again, separate from the world, just him and Sonny.

“Do you always look at me like that?” Sonny whispered.

Peter swallowed, something teasing on the edge of his tongue, but instead all that came out was a hushed, “Like what?”

“Like...like I’m the only thing that matters.” He reached out, placing a gentle hand on Peter’s arm, and the warmth of it felt like fire running from the point of contact throughout his entire body. “Like you would jump off the edge of the world with me, if only I’d asked.”

Peter didn’t have a response for that. Until the moment the words had left Sonny’s mouth, Peter hadn’t even considered them. They were undeniably true, and yet he wasn’t sure when that had happened. He wasn’t sure when Sonny had become the most important person in his life.

He licked his lips, ready to respond, ready to brush the comment off, but his breath caught in his throat as Sonny’s eyes dropped to his lips, tracking the movement before darting back up, gaze far darker than it had been before.

He swallowed hard, and Sonny’s eyes tracked that movement too, but this time, Peter didn’t give him a chance to look back up. He ducked his head, capturing Sonny’s lips in a kiss, hand coming up to cup the back of Sonny’s head. It only took his brain a second to register that he was kissing Sonny, that he’d made that move without considering it or discussing it, and that perhaps that wasn’t what Sonny wanted at all. But a second was all it took for Sonny to grab the lapels of his coat and pull him closer, chasing away all of the doubt creeping in before Peter could even consider pulling away.

He wound his free arm around Sonny’s waist, tugging their hips close as he threaded his fingers into the back of Sonny’s hair, and the moan it elicited had laughter bubbling up inside of him before he could stop it, and he pulled away just enough to catch his breath, allowing his forehead to rest against Sonny’s.

“You laughing at me?” Sonny asked, but it was humor not hurt in his voice, and Peter allowed himself another breathless laugh, closing his eyes.

“Might be.”

“You started it,” Sonny teased, swatting him playfully on the chest before pressing another quick kiss to Peter’s lips, which Peter couldn’t help but chase.

“When did your eyes become so blue?” He asked, voice muffled as his lips brushed Sonny’s again, and this time it was Sonny’s turn to laugh.

“What do you mean?”

Peter sighed softly, pulling back just a little, pleased to find Sonny’s eyes back to their usual crisp azure, darkened by lust, a pleasant surprise in contrast.

The truth was, he didn’t know what he meant. Of course Sonny’s eyes had always been that blue, and of course he’d always known that, but somehow it had never seemed important until tonight. Somehow, in just one night, Sonny’s eyes had come to represent warmth and security and trust. And he knew it was more than that, he did, but the rest was far more complicated than that, too.

He was saved from answering by Sonny’s phone buzzing, and after glancing down at it for a moment, Sonny looked back up, eyes dazzlingly bright, rosy cheeks dimpled as he held up his phone, showing the 12:00 display

“Merry Christmas, Peter,” he said softly before pulling Peter in for an achingly tender kiss.

When they broke apart, Peter cupped Sonny’s face in his hands, letting his thumb trail across his lips before taking a step back. He held out his hand, linking his fingers with Sonny’s, giving a small squeeze.

“Merry Christmas, Sonny.”


End file.
